Hunter
by storm101
Summary: Sometimes, following the plan is more successful than following your instincts. Shapeshifting AU, rewrite of the climax of "Castrato." Slightly implied Cain/Riff (less than I usually have it). Stand alone of a more developed universe. Rated T for mild blood/violence.


The best plans sometimes come from absolute desperation, Cain reminded himself, smiling politely at Cassandra Gladstone. And sometimes, having too much data prevents you from seeing the perfect solution. The scientist in him disagreed, but the hunter insisted on the values of his instincts. Flying blind, with no idea of his prey's plan and nothing but his words, gun, and teeth, was… exhilarating.

He really needed to listen to his instincts less, he decided, as Riff was led into the room, blindfolded. Cain had stood immediately, crouched low over the table, and if there hadn't been a gun to Riff's head and he still didn't know what Gladstone was planning or how to stop it, oh, that man would not have any lips to smirk with…

"Master Cain-" Gladstone hit him around the head, hard, before he could finish, and his valetservantfriendloveHIS stumbled forward. Cain dodged around the table, catching his shoulder and ripping the blindfold off.

For a moment, Cain froze. He had never seen Riff look so dangerous. Eyes narrowed, pupils dilated, and he could swear his valet was snarling, a growl coming from deep in his chest. Cain shivered, turned his attention back to Gladstone. "What is the meaning of this?" he demanded, dragging the instincts away from claiming and back towards defending.

"Some quick entertainment, before the fireworks," Gladstone explained, adjusting his cuffs. He cast a beatific smile in Riff's direction. "You haven't trained your dog properly."

Cain wondered how literal that statement was supposed to be. Riff was, after all, unfailingly loyal and fiercely protective, friendly, and he could easily imagine his other shape taking the form of a dog, and yet…

Gladstone continued, warming to the analogy and smirking in a way Cain was finding more revolting than usual, especially if this man had seen Riff's other form when he still hadn't. "You're a very irresponsible owner, spoiling your pet that way. He's forgotten his place, acted inappropriately…" He swung his odd medieval weapon again. "I simply cannot allow someone from the domesticated class to interfere with my work."

Riff had fallen silent, though he was still tense, jaw tight, eyes still fixed on Gladstone. Cain took the opportunity presented by their distraction to slip Crehador's gift into Riff's pocket. Just in case. "So… you work for my father?" Cain asked, releasing Riff's shoulder to draw his gun. "An agent of Delilah?"

No answer, but then, it had been a rather obvious question. "He'll realize," Gladstone said instead, reaching into his own pocket, "A servant will always be nothing but a servant… Why don't you teach him that lesson, my dear Cain?"

The pocket watch opened, the melody played, as Cain had expected it to do, and he wished he'd had time to warn Riff of what to expect, that he knew exactly what he was doing, was under no one's control, and had no intention whatsoever of following the order Gladstone had attempted to plant in his head. Cain Hargreaves followed no man's orders.

But Gladstone believed he would, damn his eyes, and unless he wanted to play his hand too early… Cain lowered the gun to point at Riff instead.

"Master Cain…?"

Of course now Riff would look afraid, when it was Cain holding the gun to his head. He didn't fear death, Cain realized with a surge of understanding, he feared losing him.

Gladstone was watching… Well. He might as well give him the show he wanted, as it would be his last.

"When I hear this song, I'll kill Riff," he whispered, looking down at the gun. Riff fumbled to his feet, clumsy with his hands bound behind him, and fell back against the table. Cain flinched, 'fighting' against the hypnosis, and felt horribly guilty when Riff brightened with hope.

"Master Cain-"

Cain shoved him back, making him fall against the table again, letting Gladstone think he was still in control. The fool laughed. "He can't escape from the hypnosis I've placed on him! Your whining and barking is of no use."

"And what of your death, Lord Gladstone? Would that be of use?" That same shiver of terrified arousal crept down Cain's scalp, and he was seconds from throwing the whole damn plan, just to see what Riff would do.

Gladstone paused, voice going very soft. "Is that a threat, cur? Not much of one, is it? If I die, there's nothing to break the hypnosis, and your precious master lives in his own head for the rest of his days. He can only hear my voice, follow my orders." Dismissively, Gladstone looked back at Cain, one arm swinging wide in an imperious gesture that looked ridiculous when removed from the stage. "Kill him now! Kill the arrogant mongrel who thought he could protect his master!"

The opportunity was lost, and the fireworks were beginning. Out of time. Nothing else for it… Cain stepped forward to press the gun against Riff's chest. The quiet, muffled clink of metal on metal was drowned by Gladstone's laughter-but Riff heard it, swinging his attention away from Gladstone to turn relieved eyes on Cain.

Cain winked. And pulled the trigger.

Riff fell backwards, into the table, the bottle of red wine from the earlier dinner shattering, sending shards of glass and wine over his body. Cain watched, trying to put aside how chillingly realistic it looked… Riff, dead by his bullet, would be an image to haunt his dreams for months.

"I win," Gladstone whispered, gleefully, and it took all of Cain's self control to not turn and shoot him, too, or rip his face to shreds and eat his black heart- There was an explosion from outside, and Cain flinched, surprised. No one was paying attention to him, though. "Ah, the festival is reaching its climax," Gladstone observed, pushing back the heavy curtains with one knuckle, manic grin reflected in the dark glass. "That is something I don't want to miss… Clean this mess up," he ordered absently, snapping his fingers at the two guards. "Burn the mongrel, and lock up our guest…" And he left, not even waiting for the murmured acknowledgement and motioning for his steward to follow.

Cain lowered his head, hiding his grin. Gladstone had left, with the impression that he was in complete control. No, Lord Gladstone, Cain thought viciously, I win. Now, just to let these fools close enough to pounce…

"Ugh, always left with the dirty work… And that wine is wasted, I was hoping for a-" The man was cut off with a choking sound, and Cain turned just in time to see Riff's leg swing up, kneeing him in the chest. The girl with the gun screamed, the thug fell back, and Riff… Riff changed.

The switch was slower than most, as would have been expected from anyone who hadn't used their form for five years, but it was still over in seconds, and a blur of white fur knocked over the other man. He had no chance to defend himself, with hands or claws, before jaws closed around his neck and his throat was ripped out, a shower of blood staining the oriental carpet. Riff landed easily, hand cuffs long since lost, too loose around canine paws, now pressed down into the man's chest.

The girl screamed again, and Cain snatched her gun from her hand, before she had the chance to shoot. "He's a wolf?! He's a fucking wolf?! But he's just a servant!"

"Riff has never been only a servant to me," Cain observed easily, and the fact that he had supposedly broken out of the hypnosis didn't distract the girl from the white wolf approaching them both slowly, her friend's blood smearing the fur around his mouth. "Of course he wouldn't be something as tame as a dog." He stepped out from behind the girl, meeting Riff half way and resting a hand on the ruff, fingers lightly tracing one pointed ear. Riff paused, took a step back to sit beside Cain, glancing up at him before turning his attention back to the girl, who looked ready to run herself.

"Riff?" He glanced sideways at him again, shifting forward, bringing his head down in preparation. Ready to hunt. Cain grinned. "Do as you wish."

She, too, was dead in seconds, mouth open in a scream she didn't get the chance to voice.

Cain righted the chair, fingers shaking, so he wouldn't just collapse to the floor, because that would just be a touch too undignified. "Feeling better?" he asked. The wolf moved closer, carefully stepping around and over the puddles of blood, to sit beside Cain, and it was such a _Riff _thing to do that the nobleman couldn't help but laugh. He buried his fingers in the ruff around Riff's neck, mostly to hide how badly they were shaking.

Riff stepped away carefully, shaking himself and changing back, one hand covering his mouth before he'd even fully shifted. "No, sir," he managed, voice muffled. "If you'll excuse me-"

"I'll get you some water," Cain offered wryly, moving to the pitcher on the side table and pouring a large glass. Riff was shakily wiping the blood away from his mouth on the tablecloth, looking definitely green. He placed the glass in front of Riff, resting a hand on the back of his neck as he rinsed out his mouth.

"I never want to lose my temper like that again," he finally said quietly, when he was spitting water that was no longer tinted pink.

Cain laughed, nuzzling into his shoulder. "I'm rather glad you did, though. I somehow doubt I'd have managed to find out what you are otherwise. You are remarkably stubborn…"

Riff shivered slightly, taking another long drink of water, before shaking his head again, as if to clear it. Probably trying to completely recover his humanity, box away the anger and animal instincts, Cain thought, but he looked more like any canine ridding himself of water. "…Gladstone couldn't have been more wrong, calling you a dog like that…" Riff glanced down at him again, and gave him a small smile.

"Thank you, sir."

"Of course, we still have to find out exactly how Gladstone fits into all of this, and what, precisely, he's been planning," Cain commented casually, stepping around the bodies and towards the door. "And you can't exactly expect me to respect your discomfort with your wolf anymore. It's quite striking. I'll be wanting to see it often. I hope you don't mind particularly much, because I quite intend to be insufferable about it."

"I wouldn't expect any less, Master Cain…"

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**A/N: One shot from a shapeshifters!universe I've toyed with in the past. Boredom and stress-induced insanity pushed me to actually post it. Damn finals.**

**Read, review, tell me what you think! (Also, yes, I have corresponding animals planned for pretty much everyone...)**


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